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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27160570">moon's not bright enough</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bewitchingwind/pseuds/bewitchingwind'>bewitchingwind</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>First Kiss, Getting Together, Introspection, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-War</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:00:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,850</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27160570</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bewitchingwind/pseuds/bewitchingwind</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>and not like his shadow behind, as hubert walks after her majesty, but at ferdinand's side, as though cast by the sweet sun at the end of a long day. yes, that is how they feel. his heart startles all over again when he remembers they are about to part.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>moon's not bright enough</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>some soft, gentle and slow realisations upon the moment of a parting, and beyond. set when ferdinand is retiring as the prime minister, a few years into the future.</p><p>they're both ND and mentally weird i guess? in a canon way? idk it might get weird if that's too wild for you. i put some heart into this one if anyone reads it please let me know if you enjoy!</p><p>P.S. edie married to unnamed wife</p><p>title from "kashka from baghdad" by kate bush</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p>the end of autumn is not far off. ferdinand shivers keenly with it.</p><p>he has always been weak to change. the world and certainly the political climate have changed immeasurably during his lifetime so far, of course, and indeed a reasonable drive of it recently has been led by him, but done over the length of <em>years</em>, bolstered by the careful, measured eyes of his friends. it is not in his nature. he is too afraid to question whether or not it is in his will.</p><p>with the end of the social and political seasons, most landed nobles are returning to their territories for the winter. ferdinand, too, must at least spend this next week there to organise his affairs and his very future, but he is in no hurry - what hurry should he have - his time in office is over, his plans, uncertain. his activities have reached a, how could one put it, less nationally critical level. his age is over, the next to be that of the former mayor of enbarr... a very capable and popular woman elected to replace him through his own keenly devised new democratical process.</p><p><em>he</em> is without clear purpose for the second time in his life, and while this time not at all unwelcome, it is a deeply bittersweet feeling to imagine returning to aegir at this time. the idea is tinted with a desperate restlessness. he will soon have no home to live in <em>here</em>, of course, any more. so he may as <em>well</em> go. aegir is his ancestral home, after all. it is where he should belong. enbarr should not feel like home. it isn't as though he has even had much spare time to enjoy his own residence for the past few years. why, it is at hubert's little parlour where he has spent most of his evenings...</p><p>hubert. ferdinand knows <em>he</em> will never leave the capital, not until edelgard deems her own role fulfilled and her heart, free. hers is a much longer play. even to invite him to aegir, for a short companionable holiday perhaps, would be unthinkable. to be without him for dinner three times a week, for lunch more often than not, equally unthinkable, but theirs has been an era of impossible things. now it is his turn again, to accept that he cannot have what he wants, not forever. at the very least, not for now. time has caught him up again.</p><p>is there any time left?</p><p>is it too late?</p><p>sometimes, you know, he still feels so young.</p><p> </p><p>well, he must go. though it feels like something <em>will</em> impossibly change once he is off, realistically he knows full well he has plentiful time to consider all sorts of things. he must bow out gracefully. if naught else, then that. oh please, that. looking fondly up at the palace of enbarr, where he has bid his formal farewells to edelgard etc, triggers that useless premonition... that he has nothing more to do with its inhabitants, no use - so he prepares at once to leave for the sake of his dignity.</p><p>hubert escorts him naturally, as though the aforementioned farewells, though delivered in his presence, were not applicable to him. almost as if they were to go the same way. and not like his shadow behind, as he walks after her majesty, but at ferdinand's side, as though cast by the sweet sun at the end of a long day. yes, that is how they feel. his heart startles all over again when he remembers they are about to part.</p><p>the tense silence, which he imagines to be slightly reproachful, suddenly seems also desperately sad, so he stretches his arms high in the air and beckons the sun to shine generously down upon them. <em>take care of this one for me then, for I shall miss him</em>, is his scattered nonsense thought up to it, and with the power of that sun he laughs away the silly sentimentality, in the same movement as he turns - to face his dear old friend for what should be a casual farewell. it's silly to let it turn serious - it doesn't have to be - hubert surely is not finding it so. he must have things to do, after all. there will always be something for <em>him</em> to do - too much. yes. he will be alright.</p><p>"well then, I suppose I shall be off. how strange this feels! ... I know this is silly, but, thank you for everything. it truly feels like another age is ending, doesn't it?" ferdinand cannot quite bear to look up into his face as he speaks - and the light is in his eyes, you know - so he brushes his hand companionably, against hubert's shoulder or rather the side of his arm, which seems to surprise or sting the man. yes, this has gone too far. this is silly. "goodbye, hubert. though hardly for long. mind and not squander your meals because I am not there to join you."</p><p>he is looking patiently across out at the stables, the city and fields and horizon beyond, waiting calmly for a response, glad to prolong the casual, strange event, when it comes.</p><p>"don't go."</p><p>ferdinand still looks, blinking. needing a little time to process what doesn't seem to fit. when he finally turns his head, hubert is gazing out too, hands behind his back, still as a gargoyle as if he had never spoken, or as if it were some stray musing off the black top of his head. indeed, his bearing is thoughtful.</p><p>but then he turns a little too, and now past the shadowy curtain of his hair, his eyes are blown wide and fixed, resolute and direct, yet his features shaking minutely; hair in the wind, mouth and shoulders from some wild nerve. <em>d</em><em>on't go</em>. he seems to realise the ridiculousness of his own words, the ambiguity, and affects his eyes down - brow locked, back stiff, as if distressed. ferdinand feels faint, and a little confused.</p><p>"oh... oh, hubert. I will return, of course. it is just for now, really." you know I haven't decided where I shall go. do you?<br/>"yes, yes. I know. I know," he murmurs back at once, and "forgive me." but he still has the same queer look, insistent and meaningful, crucial, as if like ferdinand he doesn't really know what he means, but also does very much so, and ferdinand knows too. oh, how can he make sense of it all?</p><p>hubert's eyes dart rapidly, seeming still to beg on a silent point. as if for the first time in his life, on an emotional level he is asking for something, which he knows is not owed him. that he must ask for it, to get it - and so he must, no matter how ridiculous. that's hubert's own kind of pristine selfishness. ferdinand has waited a long time to witness it, and wonders if anyone ever has. <em>I have the will to sustain this</em>, those wild, fervent eyes seem to implore. (does ferdinand know him well enough to justify the interpretation? does he know him?) <em>this is my will</em>.</p><p>"yes, I..." ferdinand splutters weakly, his own mind churning its wheels intensely, breathlessly, scanning through his plans and duties in aegir, the essential things. "I think I can return within one week. I can return."</p><p>"do," hubert mumbles back, firmly, anxiously, it is not certain. "I will wait for you." the matter settled, ferdinand lingers just long enough to tease that familiar, entreating <em>please</em> from hubert's gaze, the eternal one that is like, <em>I don't know how to ask for things. I'm asking n</em><em>ow</em>, like when ferdinand could attend an unnecessary dinner with politicians they hate, but hubert is blocking the doorway, offering out a bottle of wine and a raised eyebrow. like when they held fierce, lost hands through the fire and ruin of a dragon in a city far away, atop a palace wall not so different to this one, while they protected something dear to them. has it all finally come around?</p><p>heart whistling in his ears, he goes by the steps down the wall, having bowed his head in distracted parting as politely as his nervous frame would allow. as his horse takes him away, he looks back - hubert stares at him one moment, two, his features distant, his eyes like beckoning candles, then leaves.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>of course, everything is as fine as he had been regularly informed by his steward, who has been doing a fine job. ferdinand's sister raises her darling young children in the old aegir manor. he watches she and her husband, doctor for the surrounding town, in a new sort of way - and feels thoughtful and strange when he witnesses them embrace.</p><p>and for some reason, he is very distracted the whole time, although he had dearly wished to see them. his sister's family do not urge his stay, recognising he is consumed by an otherworldly wistfulness. that it is <em>not</em> yet time. this is her family. the house is full with their endless scolding, endless laughing. and his people are happy with him personally in his territory, or not. other than his responsibilities of management, he is meaningfully naught to them. finally, as a face, he is meaningless. and it feels an almost weightless relief. yes, they would be fine without him. he is wondering if the cold snap has reached the city yet, and if the window of someone's office is lit up with warm candlelight. he hopes the curtains have not been drawn over it, yet, so that they might glance across the same moon. oh, this is all very silly.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>as he arranges his things for departure, himself in a small, cosy guest room rather than the repurposed chamber of his childhood, he examines hubert again in his mind - fixes his physical eye on a small miniature of him he keeps in the sleeve of one of his diaries. it is an older picture, not representing the tiny lines of time now beginning around his brow, the darling early grey about the crown of his head. he misses that true, current form dearly.</p><p>he knows hubert does not adapt quickly to change either. he is even more mistrustful of tradition, but in his heart, ferdinand thinks, taking their recently married emperor's personal schedule changes into account, hubert's body has not ever taken to the effort well even if his heart might. he savours emotional routine. yet there he was, shoulders shaking, eye fixed almost angrily at him across the distance... and via ferdinand's own familiar, tender knowledge, the look had been filtered easily to its true form: insistency, truth. when the alternative to change is intolerable to him, this is how he looks. ferdinand had shivered with fear, anticipation, a rich, alarming <em>something</em>. and unbearable gladness that they are still alive.</p><p>the "don't go" and "I will return" whisper in his ears like wind, singing through the shells and turning them red.</p><p>yes, he looks at hubert again in his mind, who looks away - that mind racing like a river, like a mare. they don't have to do this. what <em>are</em> they doing? things will change again. he wants it to. he leaves that dawn.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>hubert has probably been informed of his arrival as a matter of course, and rather than the comfort this knowledge would usually provide, the nervous and uninitiated heart in his mouth whispers to hide from his friend, prolong the safe suspense, avoid the possibility of humiliation, of grave error! there is no time, oh give him a little time... his night seemed to last forever, and the day-long ride merely the back end of a moment! he reminds himself crossly as he passes from stable to palace, of what he had drawn from hubert's wild eye as like from a well - there <em>is</em> time, but we now must decide to use it. we cannot turn away.</p><p><em>so find me then</em>, ferdinand huffs stressfully in his head, himself knowing nothing of hubert's availability. for no matter how little ready he feels for whatever life course he is trespassing down, it doesn't matter at heart: he must see him, at once.</p><p><br/>it is as he passes a corridor adjoining two towers, with an open ceiling and wind bright and alive through the open hollows, that he sees him engaged in a similar route on the other side, seeming also in rush.</p><p>contrary to his every expectation, ferdinand feels his own face instantly light with endearment and spirit merely with seeing him... and hubert's eyes are serious and calm, lit by amusement and - as they near across the space, stoked by a gentle energy. of course. this is how they always are. they were already here.</p><p>there is nothing for it. he laughs and takes him, burrows his face against his shoulder. "ohh," is all he can say, a sigh rich with a thousand familiar feelings in a new atmosphere, and hubert lets him quite patiently, like a cat. just breathing out companionably against his new burden. truthfully, ferdinand thought he might be pushed aside, a <em>not now</em> or <em>not here</em>, and he would have not in the least been bothered, so keen was he to memorise every more private preference. but, it doesn't come. he is let to be there.</p><p>he doesn't mean to be lofty, but he cannot imagine hubert ever having held anyone else before - well, perhaps her. but surely this is the first with someone of his own height? yes? he believes he himself may have seized him in giddy delight once at some celebration or another one time, a wedding no doubt, and the fool hadn't seemed to know what to do with himself then either, so ferdinand is entirely content with clinging onto his statuesque figure, the cup of his own heart already full.</p><p>but no - slowly and carefully, hubert raises his arms, and in his own way, returns the gesture unfamiliar to both. it is not like hugging anyone else (not that that is his habit). hubert approaches it as with any other personal duty: with frank care and logic. and the dearness of it is unfathomably overwhelming. ferdinand only feels but can perfectly envision, as hubert politely and dedicatedly moves aside the blanket of hair, each strand, and settles his hands carefully underneath.</p><p>as affectionate, rapturous tears slide down ferdinand's nose, hubert pats him patiently on the back of the head.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>there is no need for <em>I missed you</em>s, or <em>it was strange to be apart, wasn't it?</em> between them. they cannot go back to before, and that is fine. the longer they stand there however, the more inappropriately intimate this moment is, so it makes sense that what hubert does say is, "must you do aught this evening?"</p><p>"a little," ferdinand whispers peacefully, eyes still shut. "but I can take care of it presently."</p><p>"perhaps we might dine."</p><p><br/>his heart still swooping, they agree, reluctantly part, and such sets the tone of this new era, apparently - a peculiar relationship with time and space where once he might have shyly recalled the spark of hubert's sly smile at this or that thing, or mused on the strange qualities of his handsome limbs long after they have parted... but <em>now</em> he must undertake the usual and mundane activities of life such as walking and performing errands, all the while deliberating over every single word and turn of tone, in search of the desired hidden meaning. perhaps all ferdinand really wants to know is, <em>do you have any idea where we are going?</em> but he <em>knows</em> that he doesn't, that they both have no idea.</p><p>for their dinner that night is special, deeply and memorably so, but it is in substance no different to any they have normally spent together, in these luxurious free autumn evenings - languid, sitting close upon hubert's settee, discussing this and that and another thing too, going over the past the best they can, occasionally touching hands in comfort and companionship. their conversation today spans their whole personal history, in sweet reminiscence or even in requiem - as though from a need to put all in good order before they proceed. with what? hubert only seeming insistent on reminding ferdinand through anecdote just how much of a wretch he himself used to be, as if in warning.</p><p>linhardt and caspar wander the world, ferdinand hears, with no thought of tomorrow or yesterday. can one act so freely and truly? all he can dwell on is, as he waits for the moon to rise each evening like any young romantic, had hubert's attachment been clear? perhaps in their age-old domestic habits? could they have acted sooner, as others do?</p><p><br/>he had taken it for granted, perhaps, or had not noticed - or is seeing it now, the taking in of him into hubert's circle of dedication, not only of protection - indeed, like a cat, who has allowed one into the household of its heart. such are his own idle, richest fantasies - the imagining of the inside of that heart of hubert's. the decoration of his mind, what <em>his</em> place is in it. like over the years catching hubert refilling his wine for him, buttering his afternoon toast, setting down a placemat and cutlery for their supper together - ferdinand's knife always on the correct side for his left hand, and when ferdinand was busy working on legislation over the table, his tea blown on for him to save him the trouble. and when seen, hubert's eyebrow would raise just so, his cheek a high, rosy coral. his eye slanted as if to ask, "what?" what, indeed.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>they always go to hubert's rooms of course, to partake of their increasingly romantic candlelit dinners. the same as ever, just off one of the palace wings. ferdinand could still technically entertain company at his own ministerial suite, much larger, where the last of his books and records are being collected and arranged for either dispersal or transportation. where to, he ever knows not. but he has sent his cook on night leave during these moving activities, what with his employer at hubert's parlour every evening. it would only cause problems to redirect things now.</p><p>still, though, they again have a restlessness in them, a communal wish to test the versatility of their arrangement. neither suggests the idea of dining together with edelgard or another friend, the idea currently awkward in their state. hubert finally proposes the possibility of a certain restaurant close to the palace, during social season being part of the affairs of a ballroom which it is situated above, by way of a beautiful and well-used marble staircase. he knows its vantage point offers a gorgeous view over their beloved city, and once he realises hubert has already arranged one of his people there to await them, and a familiar woman to escort them (who had already been assigned to ferdinand earlier in the year to follow him wherever he would go), he laughs and agrees wholeheartedly to the enchanting plan.</p><p>they meet in their best, ferdinand in a very well-preserved velvet waistcoat of his great-grandfather's which he brought back from aegir, as well as a pretty and frilly billowy shirt, jewel earrings and velvet trousers to match the aforementioned. he finds hubert outside the palace as if they are both princes, hubert himself breathtakingly adorned in an exquisite black suit with deep midnight blue embroidery and a cream cravat which ferdinand once gave him. after he is permitted the no doubt foreseen gushing and laughing questions (for he had been sure he knew hubert's meagre wardrobe inside out! apparently the suit was something he had received from bernadetta as a combined 29th and upcoming 30th birthday gift) hubert takes his hand. his bow over it is quite theatrically deadpan, sardonic, and absolutely no less charming for it, and not least for the breathy press of his warm lips against ferdinand's chilled bare fingers.</p><p>they walk quietly with that shy hand around hubert's arm, whose own free hand is making harried gestures at their amused escort. perhaps to express the night's plan through one of his coded vestra sign languages. all that ferdinand gleans from this is a notion of why hubert himself very, very rarely leaves the palace - of course he attends edelgard out if necessary, but even such an outing as this is getting too much for his lifelong tested nerves. of course, ferdinand would never put it like that aloud - though <em>he</em> considers it no insult at all to the dear man's yet formidable, yet undefeated mind.</p><p>what he knows most of all - as he works out that the entire evening has been structured to allow their best safety and privacy - is that he has been prime minister of adrestia for three years, and he has never felt more a man of importance than when situated on the arm of hubert von vestra.</p><p>hubert's bodyguard (for that is essentially what she is) greets them covertly, the two women now taking the place of waiters, and their evening goes entirely unprovoked.</p><p>when ferdinand remembers them, he glances over to see one enjoying her single permitted cocktail, hand on her hidden dagger, with all the ease and confidence of someone perfectly trained both for trouble <em>and</em> the perfectly boring, uneventful night these jobs must usually be for them. since it's a night escort, he knows they are paid well for their efforts, that a bulk of the vestra coffers go to keeping all of hubert's people well compensated for their dangerous missions and activities - rather than fuelling the ancient family ambitions like their intended purpose. the last financial decision hubert made that honoured vestra senior was his plain blank headstone.</p><p>smiling slightly to himself, his expression only grows as he catches a neglected hubert slightly sulky over his champagne, not knowing at all that really, ferdinand's thoughts all come back to him one way or another. he takes his hand across their secluded table, swimming deeply within the sparkle of hubert's visible eye, which seems to welcome him to think of whatever he pleases, if only he might look his way while he does it.</p><p>they talk some, the atmosphere warm and rich as their food. they are even kept safe from the elements a little, the biting wyvern moon wind dissipated by a hanging curtain suspended over their private eave. it's truly lovely, and ferdinand can admire every one of those fine, iridescent black and silver hairs (which he so wishes to caress at his leisure) by the candlelight here - and yet, he wants something else, selfishly, something freer.</p><p>"shall we not wander along the balcony?" he suggests delicately, his heart sinking for the first time in this precious week as he earns a distracted frown. "it'll be like flying." at that hubert seems to consider it a moment, taking a long draught of his beverage, and finally agrees through a cautious smile, offering his hand, as though that particular display of affection is non-negotiable with the public.</p><p>yes, they are known, after all. hubert has certainly withdrawn from public life this year, and ferdinand is now relieved of role, but regardless, the vestra priority of discretion makes a good amount of sense. being co-authors of so many influential bills and papers of law and culpability, they have even come to be associated as one unit, the "two jewels"... an epithet which now makes him blush.</p><p>but nobody pays them much mind at all. perhaps there are a few who notice them, but, he remembers abashedly, most who would be here are nobles or otherwise affluent, and to them they are no great mystery or spectacle now. even the particularly rare sight of marquis vestra is hardly of prolonged interest - to see the two jewels together, well, <em>that's</em> no surprise, and if it were because vestra has some dark business to attend to, well, there's nobody who wants to get involved with <em>that</em>.</p><p>and that's it. as he peers politely at their fellow couples, they are all enjoying their own chilly evenings. there is no great threat. this is what others have come to call this now, though hubert would not be likely to entertain it: an era of peace. he is suddenly gripped not just by a bottomless sea of affection for his partner - that is to say, his companion - but for everyone enjoying their outings, everyone below, having their less lavish suppers, living their individually precious lives, and for everyone in this city to whom who he is just a name passing from daily use. he is, for the first time, truly grateful and glad about it all, for what - he knows not - perhaps everything.</p><p>hubert, meanwhile, is in his own world, glaring thinly from their balcony vantage point back at their entourage duo. ferdinand is aware the two knew each other reasonably well before, as one might expect, and now so often being forced together on basically a combined task, appear to have struck up a fairly friendly relationship - judging by one hand on the other's arm as they scan their surroundings, dedicatedly but comfortably, occasionally sharing a low word and coy smile. ferdinand himself smiles to see them, for his new perspective is bolstering. he believes in them.</p><p>"come along, darling," he urges sweetly, amusedly. "they deserve to get what they can out of their employment. I believe we have done the same."</p><p>"hmm. as long as they <em>are</em> doing their jobs," hubert mutters with tension as they walk on, his hand against ferdinand's lower back protectively, whose heart stutters with the honour.</p><p>"you know, i think this is what is called a double date," ferdinand suggests kind of coquettishly, but is laughing with bright cheeks before his words are out. hubert flinches away in exactly the envisioned reaction, pinching the bridge of his nose with a wry, pained smile and a suffering sigh as if he just doesn't know what to do with him. <em>oh, my dear. you can do whatever you like.</em></p><p>from then on, hubert is much more at his ease. he stretches out his form against the railing of the balcony, alert, gazing up at the far stars one moment, then down at ferdinand the next - content to look out together at their city, but even beyond that, to the very dusky realms of space.</p><p>only now does ferdinand comprehend the real truth to this evening - oh, hubert wants to relax as well. he wants to feel like they are safe, to feel like they are just as the other couples all around them. to look like two normal well-known lovers - even if their route together has been less than normal. <em>yes, I get it. to us, this is our normal. it's all we have. I understand.</em> he's trying, too.</p><p>now that they are the centerpiece of the balcony, there <em>is</em> a slightly raised volume to the conversations behind them, but it is not <em>that</em> kind of thing which bothers hubert. he has always known expertly how to separate the idle gossip of strangers from anything of real gravity. his serene poise falters not a bit as he drains the last of his glass in an elegant motion, and only blinks at ferdinand's shy, defeated whine: "they're talking of us!"</p><p>no, ferdinand is not worried about being assassinated, but he <em>is</em> just a <em>little</em> worried about whatever might be in the enbarr eagle the next morning - or more exactly, what could be there to scare or annoy hubert off from bothering with any of this.</p><p>"whatever is there to talk of?" is what hubert asks with cryptic flippancy, glancing at him with a small smile.</p><p>"a great deal!" ferdinand huffs back, only serving to widen that smile splendidly. his heart flutters. then ah, he really gets it. </p><p>he, ferdinand, a formerly incorrigible show-off with a nervous soul, worried lifelong about what might be thought of him - he forgot that hubert is different. the kind of theatrical flair that made whispering down secret plans into edelgard's ear all those years <em>work</em>. he who in no way discouraged rumours of all spooky kinds about him. he would once play off a cacophony of myriad gossip - he enjoyed keeping such people guessing. ferdinand gets it, now. this part is fun. it's useful. it's thrilling.</p><p>it's as if he trusts ferdinand alone to keep his true, private heart secret, and damn the rest.</p><p>and now, in a harmless situation, buffered by a little drink, hubert's will is forever strongest. he stands leisurely, unthinkably close, arm resting easily against the balcony with a lazy grip on his drained glass, capturing ferdinand's gaze masterfully. neither of them ever looking away. the glint in his eye is all the more deliriously handsome for its unbearable gentleness. <em>I have you</em>, it seems to say. and in a yet more secret tongue, <em>have me</em>.</p><p>the moon is ever high above them, peering down too as if breathless in lustrous anticipation, just like any other spectator... but there's not enough light by far to learn all the unreadable messages in his beloved's face.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p>the women seem more than content to wait outside to enact their own parting, so before finally being escorted for the last time that night, he is led all the way back behind hubert's parlour door, the familiarity deeply soothing.</p><p>now that they are here again, in hubert's very sanctum, where there is little further to go into the very core of his routined life - ferdinand knows only that the curtains in his private chamber are, predictably, a deep grey - he somehow seems shy. the further you go into him, the more tender and sweet. yet his eyes intent as ever, on what, ferdinand cannot say. his own thoughts do not even go immediately to <em>that</em> - what they could do right now, faces gazing again so close, sequestered scandalously against the wood of the unclosed door, waiting ready to admit his leave. yes - at first he forgets the very idea, for not hubert's mouth but his eyes, seem to search for something even yet unknown, a secret answer or wish demanding powerlessly to <em>be</em> known.</p><p>his eyes still seem the colour of grapefruits, as though a little of the moon's holy yellow glow followed home as chaperone. ferdinand looks down thoughtfully. home. attentive, hubert is at once taking his face in his palm, to gaze into it alert for the first details of trouble. as though that, at least, he can handle. ferdinand can feel his own eyes begin to water - it has been a long, vivid evening - and for once the gap between them is very small. indeed, it vanishes entirely. it is a lot gentler than he thought, to kiss, with a lot more depth, as he becomes immediately attached even on an emotional level to the pulse he can feel through hubert's lip. the hand which he thought might seize his cheek, trembles helplessly against it. he thought this was nothing more than one thing that they could do one day, but it was needed like the spring will be.</p><p>they breathe into the same air in the dark, heartbeats slowing but the air alive. after this, ferdinand thinks, things may get easier. <em>I too wanted to do as others do. I wanted us to be like anyone else, for one night.</em></p><p> </p><p>they kiss again, and again, and then ferdinand knows he must go. he fiddles with hubert's cravat while he sniffles, setting it right entirely unnecessarily as its wearer will probably soon retire for the day. before he can turn, hubert grasps his hand this time.</p><p>"wait," is his hushed murmur, "will I see you tomorrow?" it's a sunday, so they <em>should</em> both spend it organising their lives... for what will likely be another distracted week of doing little not side by side. all ferdinand can do is laugh, squeezing that hand for dear life.</p><p>"good night."</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p>he returns past midnight.</p><p>admitted by a wraithlike hubert in his shirtsleeves, between knife and candle. it was never going to be any other way. after holding each other tightly for a good many moments, they are about to recline upon the settle - probably to whisper and doze through the night propped against each other, when hubert takes his hand yet another time, to say a thing.</p><p>"I already love you." he breaks it very stately, calmly, gently. as if in <em>apology</em>. "I know you like things done in a certain order. that you always wanted a proper courting. I'm sorry." ferdinand lets out a deep, strange, heady breath without looking at him speak. feels like his head is in the sea. the water brims up his eyes all over again. "you cannot be surprised. I have little to hide any more. I am what I am - that is the worry."</p><p>"it is no worry," ferdinand manages, weakly.</p><p>his shaking hand is lifted, delicately and sweetly, another of those precious kisses lain upon it as though there is an endless supply. "so wouldst thou take my hand in courtship? hmm? would you consider me?" hubert's satirical voice takes on a yet wryer tone as ferdinand trembles mutely, amused, bewildered, somehow only now utterly overwhelmed entirely beyond speech. "too late for that? yes, we've done it all in a strange order, haven't we?" and they are both laughing and crying at once. hubert's solemn admission has settled the air, and their peaceful night at home together is set. and they press their faces together, rest against each other, laughing and laughing.</p><p>he can't get his own words out yet, but he knows he doesn't need to. that hubert isn't even dwelling on it, behind his gaze of merry butter-soft eyes. but here they are, entwined after hours, dancing around the plan of an adult life together. surely it must be plain. <em>I dont know if you know, but I <strong>do</strong>. I love you, immensely.</em></p><p> </p><p><br/>his landed name, aegir, means "sea", but in the old scholarly tongue that has been forgotten by the people. well, then this is the deepest part of him. in old forgotten words. the deepest place of his world.</p><p>he knows what "vestra" means, too.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/>
<hr/><p>hubert is 30 soon. they gave their lives for this future world, and now they are cycling back to the beginning to ask the real questions. all the candles are lit in their little room - forget the moon.</p><p>that's how it is, when one says "my heart is very heavy" and the other says "I've got it". they share that much more of their deepest troubles, impossible to conceal them - hubert's nightmares and paranoia, ferdinand's wild heart and exhaustion. they'll take it all into their house.</p><p> </p><p>for none of them are good at very much else but loving, now. edelgard is soon retiring with her own wife. perhaps they might all go far from here. to spend each day with you is my dearest ambition now, to protect me your dearest duty. that's how we'll make this work.</p>
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